


The time i refrained from committing homicide and regretted it

by s42683



Series: Hogwarts drama [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5 people in marauders, F/F, F/M, M/M, Marauders, no bullying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:14:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26855038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s42683/pseuds/s42683
Summary: Where Evangele Hermes (nearly kills) befriends 4 boys—and gets roped into drama, pranks and maybe romance.NO VOLDY but there is a handsome professor Riddle who teaches defence against dark arts
Relationships: Regulus black/ original female character(s), Remus Lupin/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Hogwarts drama [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959067





	1. The time my home got trashed by unwanted jun—wait are those letters?

It all started at the 3rd of August, 1971, when a rouge letter arrived in front of a pair of calloused hands, sliding through the broken glass of the abandoned clock tower. Inside the clocktower, the air was still as the peaks of dawn lighted up the rather large space, colouring the wooden floor reddish pink. The stone walls held sturdy, vines curling up the cracks and crevices of the bricks, scarlet flowers a splash of colour against the grey stone. In the middle of the space a tangle of dirty blankets covered a petite girl, short blonde locks curling around her face like strawberry blonde streaks on her chocolate coloured skin. Boxes neatly stacked into piles at the back cast a shadow over her large silvery eyes, one hand rubbing at her temple as she crawled toward the letter glowing on the floor. 

“ I swear, one day, I will slaughter all the birds in the world. Why are they so goddamn loud in this fuck-you hour in the morning?” 

The sun shaded her skin a hue of orange.

“Dear Miss Hermes, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry….” 

Evangele sighed. She didn’t have enough time for pranks—she was starving and had to go steal at the market to stock up before winter hit. Her stomach curdled at the thought of stealing. Her pride roared, wounded. But she thought it was better than begging on the street. ‘Besides,’ She reasoned. ‘Those rich prudes wont miss a bit of money. They’re drowning in it.’ 

Casting the letter aside, Evangele tugged her wispy locks of hair in her ratty cap, dusting off her pants and shirt. It was pure luck a girl like her had survived in the dark alleys of London, abandoned by her parents at age 7. She had found a empty, hidden area in the abandoned clock tower, an area that hid her away from murderers and gave her shelter. It was fairly large, wooden floor and stone walls. She used her ‘powers’ for stealing. It was useful when a wallet floated toward her without her even flicking a finger. It was also useful when she nearly murdered those who dared insult her. She ruled the shadows of London, and she wasn’t planning to change that anytime. 

Evangele hid herself in the dark shadow of the alley, silver eyes glowing like 2 melted silver orbs, as her hands slid across her clothes, the rough fabric turning into silk and her socks into shoes. She fixed her cap-now a feather hat-before melting into the crowd. The forget-me-not blue sky stretched endlessly as wisps of clouds floated by, flurry of people walking to and fro, not paying mind to the girl that waltzed to the fruit store, demeanor relaxed, elegance painted in every move. 

“Good morning, Mr. Almoner. It’s a nice weather we have today, isn’t it?” A slight drawl clinging to her words, Evangele leaned toward the counter, nimble hands slipping a apple inside her sleeve. 

“Ah, Noah! It’s so nice to see you, son. Come to talk with this old man again?” The shopkeeper hobbled toward her, eyes brightening with recognition and welcome. “Thank you so much for helping me clean the shop last week, don’t know what i’d do without your visits.”

“It was nothing, Mr. Almoner. By the way, may I talk with your cleaner for a minute? Thank you, sir.”

Easygoing grin bolted on her face, Evangele sauntered toward a mousy boy, nails tightening on his arms as she dragged him outside, obscuring them from view in a thin, snakelike alley. Her grin transfigured into a snarl within a second, floating a knife mere millimeters away from the boys throat. 

“Oy, Mouse-boy. Got the food?” Evangele growled. “Remember when I said i’ll kill you if you didn’t bring the fruit and meat, motherfucker.”

“It’s here! It’s here.” The boy squeaked, running away after handing her a bulging sack filled with fruit and meat. Evangeles’ hands shot out to grab the sack, knife dropping to the ground with a harsh clang. The tips of her mouth quirked into a self-satisfied smirk. Normally, she would never threaten another person. But this idiot had insulted her, and, well, she had to get revenge, didn’t she? 

After ‘visiting’ several other shops, her sleeves, sack and hat were filled with firewood, coal, lighters, clothes and several gold coins. Humming to herself in satisfaction, she strolled toward the Woods, the crunch of gravel under the slim soles of her shoes filling the air as the chilly evening seemed to thrum with anticipation for winter. Malice based on curiosity made her eyes glint as she pondered on who had sent the blasted letter. She was sure she had seen a location of some kind on the letter-but she couldn’t, for the life of her, remember the exact location written. A owl hooted in the distance, catching her attention and pulling her out of her stupor. Owls were rare-they simply despised the Woods. But if a owl was here, it meant a descending night, which brought with it danger. Evangele sped up, breaking out into a run when she saw the first star, glinting ominously in the rapidly darkening sky. If there was anything that getting beaten up in the street had taught her, it was how to save her ass based on gut instinct—and her gut instinct was telling her to bolt, run, escape. 

“Bloody hell! What the fuck happened here?” Evangele snarled. 

She had burst into her home, which, in her memory, had always been tidy, albeit some dust, aging pictures and nicknacks affectionately marking the area as hers. It had never, ever, been buried in a mountain of white—were those letters? Carefully picking her way through the white, snow-like mess, her trembling fingers snatched a letter from the ground, ripping through the case and seal. In a deadly quiet voice, she breathed in white-hot disgust and breathed out vengeful fury as she read the contents out loud. 

“HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  
Dear Ms. Hermes  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.  
Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall” 

Indignation ripped through her body like wild fire. Who was this woman fooling? How dare she trespass in her home, trash her property, and. Just. Leave. Of course, she knew that she was a witch. She may have been abandoned, but she was no fool. Her ‘powers’ were not a thing most children possessed, and was suspiciously similar to ‘magic’. She wasn’t confused. She was, however furious that a person had found her home, proceeded to trash her beautiful hideout, then prank her by trying to pretend a prestigious boarding school would accept someone like her. A penniless orphan, self-educated and unqualified, even if she did hold her posture with a certain dignity, her angelic locks hiding her sallow cheeks, moon-like eyes casting innocence upon her face. 

Stiff, smooth paper swirled around the room. A smell of blood replaced the usual smell of musty wood, red droplets sliding down the paper cuts on her arm and face. Now, Evangele prided herself on her calm, elegant posture, keeping her wits together. But this was a insult to her honour, which was, coincidently, something she clung to like a lifeline. It was what kept her from dying when she got abandoned, what gave her warmth when the nights got cold, courage to fight in the bleak hellhole of the slums. Still, a spark of hope came to life deep, deep inside her. What if the letter was true? A sigh escaped her lips. 

“Fuck this. Fuck this all. This is the last time. The last time I let myself get fooled.” Groaning, Evangele spoke. “Come out. I know you’re standing in front my door.” The tips of her lips faintly pulled in a forced smile, she turned to meet the stranger in her home. 

“Dang, this place is a mess.” The stranger looked no older than 20, three piece suit matching with his tousled jet-black hair, hand outstretched. His face was one of a gods; two baby blue eyes framed with dark curled lashes, fine cheekbones giving off a a slight Timothée Chalamet look. Evangele wanted to slap him. “Well, I guess I should introduce myself. I’m here to help you get to Hogwarts, Evangele. Name is Alureor, age is 300 and am currently needing a martini so bad.”

Normally, she’d use this chance to bolt, as all the signs pointed toward the (albeit very handsome) man being crazy. Bonkers. Mad. But his eyes were just a shade too blue, and his hands were just a bit too pretty, and the sky was slightly too inky-black, so against every single rule she’d lived for, she grabbed the hands. 

And instantly regretted it.


	2. Chapter 2

The world stopped spinning after a while. Her steps felt more solid against the smooth grey concrete of the sidewalk as she noticed her surroundings. People of all kind mingled together, all wearing robes and witch hats, magic positively fizzling in the air. There were owls and letters and vibrant colors splashing everywhere. A woman hurried past her, click-clacking in a rapid succession. 

The whole street seemed alive somehow, moving with its visitors as the magic drowned Evangele like a ocean drowns a person. Lulling and bitingly cold, it washes her under, dragging her down, down, down. She felt…strange. There was no way to describe it. Numb, her ears refusing to listen, slightly drunk on the sheer power, but still conscious enough to want to kick Alureor in the shins. If this was a fairytale, this would be the happy ending, gorgeous caretaker escorting (dragging) her to a world of magic, where she would get a future and a happily ever after. But this is real life, so Evangele snapped out of her stupor, ripping her hand out of his hold and sauntering to his side. 

“ Congratulations.” Her voice is teasing—far from the grim tone she had wanted. 

“Huh?”

“Congratulations. You’ve earned a train wreak that will become a personification of ‘your future nemesis’ and will most likely give you a shorter life expectancy.”

At that, a loopy smile flashed back at her, and. Oh. Evangele wondered what she had done to deserve this. She was a generally good person, aside from the stealing and threatening, thus generally, she was undeserving of a heart-attack in the middle of the street. A tomb saying ‘died out of a heart-attack caused by deadly hot looks—R.I.P’ would be uttermost undesirable.  
Mind you, Evangele didn’t magically fall in love with the 300 year old bastard. But she wasn’t blind. Hoping her face wasn’t flushed red, she went on. 

“Where are we going?”

“To Olivanders, a wand shop. I can show you the way, but I can’t go in. Got banned after some…undesirable actions..that I did.”

“A wand shop? Wait. A wand? For who-…For ME?” 

She shouldn’t have been so frazzled. She was a witch, after all. A wand should have been reasonable. But the magic was frying her brain and she had gone from homeless to a student with a caretaker within the hour. So she ignored the exasperated look he was giving her, and strode into the rather run-down shop. The shop was filled to the brim with long wooden boxes, probably holding wands in them. It was frightening, to be frank. No one should have that many wands. 

“Good morning!” A elderly man coming in behind her said. His voice had a dreamy touch to it, like a daydream during the mid-day, or a sole rose in a empty bush. Evangele watched warily as he hobbled behind the counter, looking up to pierce her with his eyes. His eyes, warm and compassionate, dreamy with a brush of clarity, like he was barely clinging onto reality. His pale, silver eyes, much like hers. She hated him already. 

“ Welcome to Olivanders, where we sell only the most—You’re a Hermes.” He snarled. She hated him more. How the hell did he know her last name? Maybe she could knock him out and steal a random wand. Her stance shifted down, subtly preparing for a fight. He was old, and frail, by the looks of it. She could knock him out with a good punch. But first, she was going to hear him out. 

“Tell me, girl, Did you bring that bastard caretaker with you here? Tell him I killed the raccoon. Now, hurry up and tell me your wand hand. Don’t want a Hermes in my shop for long” 

Evangele mourned the loss of the freedom that living in the streets had brought her. In there, no-one cared if you murdered someone. Half convinced she should still hit-and-run, she held out her left hand, only staying to investigate further into the mystery her last name had brought her. 

From what she could deduce, her last name was quite well-known in the magical world, and also apparently very hated. She made a mental note to ask Alureor why they knew her name so well.  
“Now, now” Olivander said impatiently. “Try this wand.” But as she was reaching toward the wand, he snatched it away, replacing it with another. This act went on for 2 hours, and by now Evangele was past the point of contemplating murder, and was looking for a weapon to kill, when he jabbed a wand at her. The wand was reddish brown, with carved throned roses curling coyly along the sides, tinge of silver glimmering at the surface.

“ This wand is made out of Yew, its core of horned serpent horn. It was famous for its beauty when it was first made, but far too powerful and prideful to choose an owner. Yew wand are known to endow its owner with the power of life and death, sensitive to danger yet drawn to power.” 

Nimble fingers curling around the thrumming wand, Evangele gave it a experimental wave, then gasped as solid gold roses curled from the cracks of the wooden floor, curling toward her then disappearing with a glowing shimmer. 

“Well, seems like you’ve found your wand. Now shoo from my shop, go with that wretched caregiver to where ever you need to go.” 

Evangele flipped him off over her back.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! thanks for reading this lol
> 
> I ACCEPT criticism  
> i do NOT accept insults 
> 
> luv u guys


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